


Brothers of Brooklyn.

by shannonsaid



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 09:53:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16553567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shannonsaid/pseuds/shannonsaid





	Brothers of Brooklyn.

"Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. 32557. The 107th."

He repeated the words over and over again. Hanging onto them as if they were the only things keeping him alive. And they were. Because they were his words. Because they were who he was. And as long as he remembered - as long as he didn’t forget - he’d never be lost.

He ignored the shouting voices in the hallway and the scuffling of footsteps behind him. All that mattered were the words repeating in his head.

"Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes."

"Bucky?"

He heard the voice again. Like he always did right before he'd slip into unconsciousness. The voice was his reminder to hold on. To not give up. That there was someone who needed him and was waiting for him to return. He needed to survive for Steve. He'd always need to survive for Steve.

"32557."

"It's me. It's Steve."

"Steve?" His voice was groggy - confused - as his eyes registered the face that was leaning over his.

"I thought you were dead."

"I thought you were smaller," he laughed at his own statement, knowing there was no way this was really Steve Rogers, the skinny boy he had left back in Brooklyn. This Steve was taller - taller than him - and had muscles that the Steve Rogers he had known could only dream of having. He knew he had to be dreaming, or maybe he was dead. "What happened to you?"

"I joined the army."

Steve's arms were around him as he replied, helping him down from the table he had spent more hours on than he could count.

Maybe he wasn't dreaming. Maybe he was alive. And maybe Steve Rogers was saving him.

"Did it hurt?"

"A little."

"Is it permanent?"

"So far."

Bucky fell silent after that. Letting Steve lead the way. He didn't understand what was happening. Less than 5 minutes ago he had been certain he was dreaming - that he was dead - and now he was being rescued by the best friend he had spent a lifetime rescuing.

Bucky wasn't sure he believed anything that was happening around him. There was no world that he knew of where your skinny and easily broken best friend wakes up one day to find himself an unbreakable superhero. And it was even less likely that your enemy turned into a man with no face, but a red skull.

The truth - for the time being - didn't matter to Bucky though. False hope was better than hopelessness. He'd pinch himself later and wake up back in that room. For now, he was following his friend out of the prison that had been his home for months.

The fresh air knocked the breath from his lungs. He was suddenly outside and found himself surrounded by other members of the 107th, all of them praising "Captain America." He looked at Steve who offered him a sheepish smile, before taking the lead and barking out orders.

Bucky fell in step beside Captain America as he lead them back to base. Steve told him about Erskine and his serum and explained that that was why he wasn't just the "skinny kid from Brooklyn" anymore. He told him he had heard about the capture and death of the majority of the 107th and refused to believe that Bucky was dead, so he went against orders to rescue him.

Bucky was silent as he listened to him. Not sure he understood anything that Steve was saying. Not that he cared to, really. All he needed to know was that Steve Rogers - Captain America - his best friend - had saved him.

They were back at base before Bucky even realized. He had been too busy reminding himself that he wasn't dead and that he was very much alive. He had given up so long ago that he was having trouble convincing himself that it was his lungs that were breathing air. He still felt like a ghost. Just now he was ghost with skin and a beating heart.

Bucky heard Steve offer himself up to the commanding officer, but Bucky knew that Steve wouldn't be reprimanded. He had saved over 400 men. He was a hero - a superhero - and you didn't reprimand heroes.

Bucky shook his head, trying to clear it of the thoughts that plagued it, before plastering a grin on his face. "Hey! Let's hear it for Captain America!"

The grin stayed in place as Steve glanced back at Bucky and the cheering took on a mind of its own. But as soon as Steve looked away, Bucky's face fell. Not because he wasn't proud of his best friend, and not because he wasn't thankful to be alive, but because another emotion had crept it's way into Bucky's mind. Uselessness. Bucky had spent a lifetime being Steve's protector. It was who he was. It was what defined him. And now, Steve didn't need to be protected anymore. He didn't need to be defended.

And in that moment, as uselessness continued to raise it's ugly head, James Buchanan Barnes wished he had died inside that horrible room. He wished all of this had been a dream, but he knew it wasn't. He had been unknowingly pinching himself since they had gotten back to base and he hadn't woken up. This was his life now. He was the useless kid from Brooklyn with the superhero for a best friend.


End file.
